


Blind Spot

by bravinto



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Belly Kink, Biting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:51:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2567198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravinto/pseuds/bravinto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there are all sorts of experiments going on in the K-sci lab</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind Spot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [decadent_mousse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/decadent_mousse/gifts), [cypress_tree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cypress_tree/gifts), [patster223](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patster223/gifts), [geniusbee](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=geniusbee).



> I dedicate this to cypress, decadentmousse, geniusbee and patster, who gave me power and courage to write about a thing as sacred as the tum bites.

The lab is dim and shadowy and quiet, save for the soft whirr of Newt’s centrifuge and his uneven breathing. 

“Come here”, Hermann told him, and normally Newt isn’t exactly the type to blindly follow commands; this time, however, there were two significant points to consider: one, Hermann used The Voice, the seemingly calm I’m-going-to-do-things-to-you sort; and two, Hermann was seated at one of the desks on the farther end of his side, which happens to be the lab’s security camera blind spot. This convenient fact is abused from time to time, for recreational purposes, and under these circumstances Newt doesn’t mind being ordered around. 

He is currently perched on the edge of the desk and squirming slightly under Hermann’s gaze from below. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Newt asks, in half-whisper, yet still too loudly. 

“Shhh”, Hermann silences him. “Show me your stomach”. 

A weird request, but not an unusual one, it seems that the old grump is fond of his softer parts. Newt reaches down to undo his jeans, but they are tight and hard to handle without standing up or lying down; so after a moment or two Herman decides, apparently, that he can do it better. Newt’s hands are pushed away and he sucks in his belly as Hermann unbuttons and then unzips his jeans, efficiently but carefully, without rush. Newt lets out a breath, it does feel good. He might be used to wearing skin-tight jeans, but they are still pretty restricting. 

Hermann tugs them down a bit and pulls the hem of Newt’s shirt free. He goes then to undo the buttons, starting with the bottom one. Newt shivers when the cool air touches the bare skin of his belly. Hermann opens the shirt wide apart and for several moments just watches Newt, then ghosts careful, cold fingers along the indents the tight jeans left on Newt’s skin. 

“Why are you doing this to yourself”, Hermann murmurs, and Newts knows better than to answer. 

Hermann’s hands snake around his waist, long fingers pressing into the flesh, and invite him to lean forward, and so he does. Hermann’s face is now inches away from Newt’s stomach, so close that Newt feels his warm, appreciative breath, and it makes his own hitch in his throat. 

“Have you had dinner?” Hermann asks. 

Newt nods, even though the last meal he had can hardly be called a proper dinner, more like a variety of snacks and a half-hearted cup of coffee. He didn’t feel like going to the mess hall, and besides, there must be nothing left there at this hour; so he rummaged through his own stash in the lab. 

“Good”, Hermann says, almost inaudibly, and Newt feels his hot face against his skin. 

There is something heart-wrenchingly endearing about the way Hermann buries his face in Newt’s belly; always. This has been a good cure to a lot of Newt’s body image issues. At some point it turned out, he was the exact height, the exact weight and softness for Hermann’s liking. When he got sick and lost almost ten kilograms, Hermann was all over him, and when he gained them back and some more – no less so. There is some pattern to this that Newt has to investigate… when his brain is more cooperative, that is. All this gentle tummy burrowing is way, way too distracting. 

Then he feels teeth. Hermann bites lightly just beneath Newt’s navel, then digs his teeth deeper in and makes a pleased noise when Newt gasps. Newt suddenly finds it hard to sit still and tightens his legs around Hermann; but they open on their own accord when he feels Hermann’s hot, wet tongue slide in his belly button. Newt can’t help a groan. 

Hermann alternates between kisses, licks and bites, his thumbs tracing curly tattooed patterns on Newt’s hips, and Newt thinks, distractedly, that this dark, cold laboratory has seen too much, and that he wouldn’t mind if it saw more. He wants to run his fingers through the soft fuzz on the back of Hermann’s head, but he knows it’s a bad idea. He does it anyway and has his hand swatted away. 

“Sit still”, Hermann says menacingly and bites him, hard; Newt’s hips jerk. 

This is when his centrifuge chooses to beep, announcing the cycle end. Newt whines and wants to ignore it, he really does, but he just can’t. Hermann pinches him on the side. 

“Your experiment needs you”, he says, backing off. 

“Meh”, Newt sighs, curling in around Hermann’s head and holding him close. 

“Go”, Hermann says with a tiny soft kiss on Newt’s belly. “We can continue later. My quarters, after you are finished”. 

He buttons Newt’s shirt up and zips his jeans, and Newt doesn’t stop whining all through this, but he gets off the desk and goes to his side and does his job, and does it well, because he knows good things are waiting for him. Tonight and for many, many years to come. 


End file.
